


Tear Down My Reason

by SelfRescuingPrincess



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Consensual Non-Consent, Face Slapping, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, LA Era (Crooked Media RPF), Light Bondage, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 23:24:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15761856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelfRescuingPrincess/pseuds/SelfRescuingPrincess
Summary: “How about a… a rape fantasy?” Jon asks, nearly squeaking by the end of the question. Wait. What? This immediately brings Tommy out of his reverie and he gapes at Jon. So that’s what this is about? Tommy senses his stare is much more intense than he would like it, but this is truly unexpected territory, and it has momentarily thrown his press training out the window. To his credit, Jon holds his gaze. Shit, he’s serious. Ok. Tommy needs more information: “Which direction?”“You, aah… you raping me.”





	Tear Down My Reason

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [through every forest, above the trees](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853617) by [Timjan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timjan/pseuds/Timjan). 



> Title from Nine Inch Nails' Closer.
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you to my Beta, TimJan. This is my first time writing something creative, and she gave me the best feedback, made me think hard about my work, and encouraged me along the way. This piece is so much stronger because of her attention to detail and endless polishing. 
> 
> As noted, this work is also based on her piece "through every forest, above the trees" so you should definitely scoot over there and read that first for Jon's side of the story, then come back here for Tommy.
> 
> Be cool, keep it secret, keep it safe.

It is a typical Saturday afternoon, with Jon and Emily and Lovett over for a barbecue. It’s the time when Tommy feels the most relaxed—a few beers in, his closest people around him, dogs in a warm pile in the sun. The Red Sox are on and Lovett had complained (“This is so boring… They should be wearing shorts… Nothing’s happening… All this talk of balls is seriously so homophobic…”) until Emily suggested they take Pundit, Leo, and Lucca for a walk. So it’s just him and Jon as the game enters the bottom of the 9th. It’s quiet without the commotion of the dogs plus Lovett, and Tommy can sort of tell Jon wants to say something, but Tommy can wait him out, so he just listens to the color commentary and sips the remainder of his beer.

“So, Tommy. I have something really weird that I want to ask you. It’d be great if you didn’t freak out.”

_‘Well, that’s an alarming way to start a conversation,’_ Tommy thinks. He works to keep his face together but the questions immediately pile up. Why would he freak out? Weird in what way? Is he, in fact, freaking out right now? What could Jon possibly ask him that is both weird and would freak him out?

Jon. The only person Tommy would trust to be the face of their company. Tommy, Jon and Lovett are all co-founders, but let’s be realistic: Jon is the ringleader. Once in an interview, Ira was asked which of them was which Kardashian—Jon was clearly Kim (the real HBIC), Tommy was the Cool Girl yet still likeable Kourtney, and Lovett was audacious-and-gives-zero-fucks Khloe. Which, you know, fair. As much as Tommy craves to be In Charge of Things™, he trusts Jon implicitly. They’ve spent so many hours together on the campaign trail, and then in the White House, where they were both (in different ways) responsible for the image of Obama’s Administration. Now they have a media company to continue their brand of Democratic leadership and fight for the progressive principles they know to be Right and Good and True. They are practically Vulcan-mind-melded together (as Star Trek fan Lovett has noted on any number of occasions—“you’re doing that _thing_ again!”) and Tommy would trust Jon with his life. He turns to look at Jon, whose brow is furrowed as his eyes dart around the room and he chews at his bottom lip. Tommy finally manages to settle down into full press-conference-blank-face mode and lets Jon collect his thoughts.

“So, er, Emily tells me you like… roleplaying,” Jon finally says, and he immediately looks like he wants to melt into the floor.

Tommy’s focus is now sharp and fully on Jon, but he still doesn’t know where this is going so he vaguely responds “Mmm hmm,” and then waits, not giving away any information until necessary. Jon asks how “it” “works” and Tommy can tell he’s really struggling to keep it “together”. There is definitely something behind this basic question, but Tommy doesn’t want to assume anything, so he decides to give Jon another shot at it.

“It works fine, Jonathan. What are you really asking?” Why did he just call him Jonathan? Where did that even come from?

“No, I mean, I’m just curious about how you go about it, how you like, decide what to do and make it happen?”

_‘OhmygodJon,’_ Tommy thinks. He knows Jon’s stalling, and Tommy is patient, but he also wants Jon to cut the crap. He keeps looking at Jon, searching his face, trying to piece together what Jon needs. “What are you fishing for Favreau?” Tommy hears his exasperation creep through just enough that the question comes out a bit harsher than he would have wanted. At least he wasn’t weird and said “Jonathan” again.

Jon is clearly searching for the right words, a dead giveaway for a former speechwriter/person who talks for a living, and he pretty much looks like he wants to die. Tommy realizes he needs to ease up and change tactics. Make Jon feel safe enough to ask for what he’s pretty sure Jon is going to ask for. He exhales, shifts his posture, and decides that actually maybe Jon needs a little extra help, so Tommy asks the question for him.

“Look, Jon, I’m not gonna freak out. Is… is this about you having some sort of fantasy that Em can’t help you with?”

Jon looks surprisedrelievedembarrassed. “Yeah,” he exhales.

Okay. Tommy had been pretty confident he knew where this was heading, but it’s nice to get confirmation. He also understands Jon’s need for information (because hard same for Tommy), so he walks him through the process. Step 1: Idea (almost always from Hanna) Step 2: Negotiations of the scene: what’s allowed, what’s not. Step 3: Planning, supplies, contingencies. Step 4: Execution of plan. Tommy figures that helping Jon understand the technical side of things will ease his anxiety. They both like plans.

“So it’s just Hanna’s fantasies, not yours?” Jon asks. Tommy starts to think this might be about more than just process.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I add things I like when I plan things out. And it’s not really about what the fantasy’s ‘about’ for me, you know?” Tommy replies. For Tommy, the scenario itself is pretty irrelevant. He likes the planning and the anticipation, but mostly he likes being able to do it for Hanna. He likes taking her past her breaking point, and then bringing her safely back. He doesn’t really mean to, but for just a second, he thinks about doing this for Jon. It’s been a while since he’s had that thought. Huh. _Stay cool, Vietor._ “I can usually find some angle that helps me get off on whatever the fantasy is, though,” Tommy adds. An image of Jon looking absolutely wrecked at his feet flashes in his mind, and Tommy can feel the edges of his mouth curl up.

“How about a… a rape fantasy?” Jon asks, nearly squeaking by the end of the question. Wait. What? This immediately brings Tommy out of his reverie and he gapes at Jon. So _that’s_ what this is about? Tommy senses his stare is much more intense than he would like it, but this is truly unexpected territory, and it has momentarily thrown his press training out the window. To his credit, Jon holds his gaze. Shit, he’s serious. Ok. Tommy needs more information: “Which direction?”

“You, aah… you raping me.” Jon is just about vibrating with nerves, and Tommy wants to do whatever he can to calm him, but he also needs to gather his thoughts. It obviously takes a lot of guts to lay yourself out like this, and Jon must be feeling incredibly vulnerable. Tommy doesn’t want to hurt him unnecessarily, so he takes the request seriously. It’s the least he can do.

Tommy leans back on the sofa, and closes his eyes to concentrate. He can feel Jon staring at him. He pulls up the deeply buried brain-folder labeled “Favs” and dusts it off. He clicks through the PowerPoint: sharing a hotel room in Iowa and accidently catching a glimpse of Jon coming out of the shower; play wrestling with Jon after a long day in the West Wing to blow off steam; Jon’s dazzling gap-toothed smile after a successful State of the Union speech. Again he imagines Jon at his feet, staring up at Tommy with those big brown eyes, and his mind starts to go down a road he hasn’t allowed it to before... He actually wants this. He wants Jon, and finally he has the opportunity he never thought he’d get just, like, dropped in his lap. Fuck. _Get it together, Vietor._ Tommy channels the image of a duck, feet working furiously under water, but all you see on the surface is calm, the duck gliding through the water with barely a ripple.

“Yeah, I could work with that.”

“Yeah?” Tommy turns back to Jon, who now looks surprisedrelievedexcited, and feels he has to caution Jon just a little. “Yeah, I’ll have to talk to Hanna first though, you know…”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. But fuck, dude, wow!” Jon is practically giddy, and Tommy can’t help but grin like a doofus back at him.

There is something about the emotional release after a Serious Conversation where you didn’t realize all the tension that was there, but now that it’s gone, you feel kind of light and free. Jon reaches out and shoves Tommy’s shoulder, and something catches in Tommy’s chest. He grabs Jon’s wrists and for the first time allows himself to really pay attention: to feel Jon’s tendons under his calloused fingers, absorb the heat of Jon’s skin, hear Jon’s grunts as Tommy easily overpowers him and pins him to the sofa. It sparks something in Tommy and he thinks _‘Yes.’_ They are both breathing harder than the exertion really required. Tommy realizes he is still squeezing Jon’s wrists, though Jon doesn’t seem to mind. He slowly (reluctantly) releases Jon, and they both know something has shifted.

++++

With Step 1 out of the way, Tommy moves onto Step 2: Negotiations. This means first talking with Hanna.

A few days after the barbecue, Tommy has had enough time to process his unconventional conversation with Jon, and he really shouldn’t put off sharing it with Hanna any longer. Difficult conversations have never scared him, but he doesn’t want it to become A Thing, so he resolves to be matter-of-fact about it. He also knows it’s best if he has something to occupy his hands while this conversation happens, so he brings it up while they’re doing the dishes after dinner.

“So, while you and Emily and Lovett were walking the dogs on Saturday, Jon and I had, um, an interesting conversation.” Casual. He hands the pot he just rinsed to Hanna.

She takes the pot and starts drying it. “Oh yeah? What about?”

“Uh, well.” Tommy starts scrubbing a pan.

Hanna puts the pot away in the cabinet. Tommy still hasn’t said anything, so she looks at him expectantly. “Well…?”

Tommy is still scrubbing the pan even though it’s pretty clean by now. _Just say it, Vietor._ “Well. He asked me something, ah, rather unexpected, and I wanted to talk to you about it.” Rather unexpected? _‘Too much Downton Abbey,’_ Tommy thinks. Definitely _not_ casual. He hands Hanna the pan and drains the soapy water from the sink.

Tommy recounts the whole conversation for Hanna, as verbatim as possible, though he maybe, sort of, glosses over the couch-wrestling part. He tells her how surprised he was, but also, like, touched? that Jon would even bring it to him at all. He tells her how excited Jon was by the end of the convo, and is honest about his own level of interest (that is to say: high). Hanna is understandably taken aback, but it is reassuring to Tommy that she doesn’t reject the whole thing outright. It’s one of the things he loves about her: she is open to almost anything if presented with a rational argument.

Hanna knows about Tommy’s history with men, so it doesn’t come as a complete shock to her that Jon would think to choose him, but of course she has questions: What exactly does Jon expect? What does that mean for you? Do you want to do this because it’s a thing you’re into or because it’s Jon who asked? What does that mean for us? Is this a one-time thing? Tommy lays out Jon’s request, but that they haven’t discussed the particulars yet. It means Tommy would be the aggressor. Both—he’s into it and because Jon asked. It means that nothing happens without Hanna’s (and Emily’s) prior agreement. Yes, it’s a one-time thing. (Uh, probably.)

The discussion goes pretty late into the night. They sit on their patio, watching Lucca chase moths until she wears herself out. Hanna admits to Tommy that she isn’t super jazzed about the whole thing; however, she wants specifics about what might go down before she gives her final verdict. A reasonable request. Tommy lays out different scenarios, ideas he’s had. He can’t be super detailed given he and Jon haven’t talked beyond what was said at the barbeque, but he gives her as much as he can. He always does. Tommy figures that he should limit his and Jon’s “interaction” to blowjobs/handjobs given Jon’s inexperience with men, and anyway Hanna is definitely not into the idea of anal when he brings it up as one of the possibilities. And because Tommy wants to keep things as safe as possible, he also wants to make sure he can offer a test-run, so the “one-time thing” part of the deal might need to be expanded to a “1.5-times thing”.

“Ok, look” Hanna starts. It’s late and they have been talking for a long time. Lucca dozed off in the cool grass a while ago. Tommy leans towards her in his chair, elbows on his knees. “You seem to be really into this.” Tommy nods slowly, keeping his eyes on her. She continues, “I love all the stuff we do, but this whole concept is not something I think I could ever be into.” Tommy starts to say something, but she cuts him off, “Hold on, hold on. Listen. It’s not for me. But I get that it might be for you. And I get that it’s Jon. So I think you should do it.”

Tommy exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Are you sure? Please don’t agree just because you think you should. I need to know this is ok.” His eyes are wide, and he means every word.

“I know what I’m saying. It’s 100% ok.” She is unambiguous, and Tommy knows that once she has heard all the arguments, thought through all the possibilities, and made a decision, it’s final. “Besides,” she grins, “I’m sure Em and I can get into some trouble on our own.” Tommy stands and pulls Hanna into a hug, thankful and relieved.

Tommy could not possibly be more grateful, or love her more. He feels incredibly lucky to be with a woman who is so clear in her convictions and so honest in her relationship with Tommy. It’s been a hard conversation, and not one Tommy ever expected to ever have out loud with another human being, but it’s not anywhere near as awkward as he anticipated. Hanna mentioning Emily makes him wonder if Em has maybe laid some groundwork for him. Tommy makes a note to teach her a new knot.

After they have gone to bed, Tommy stares at the ceiling and listens to Hanna softly breathing into her pillow. He’s kind of drained after the intense conversation they just had, but he can’t sleep, per usual. He thinks more about what this all means, because of course he does. He knows he assured Hanna that nothing would change between them, and that’s probably true, but he definitely avoided bringing up how things might change between him and Jon. Now in the quiet darkness, he can’t stop his brain from considering how this could potentially change things for him specifically. He had surprised himself at how quickly all those memories came rushing back, once he opened his mental “Favs” file/Pandora’s Box. Just the fact that Jon asked him has shaken something loose in Tommy, and he isn’t quite willing to admit how much he wants to do this, not just _for_ Jon but _with_ Jon. He is certain he wouldn’t do this for anyone else.

Tommy decides, for better or worse—and for the sake of trying to fall asleep—to put this line of thinking on the back burner.

++++

With things settled between Tommy and Hanna, it’s time for Step 2b: talking with Jon. Tommy suspects Jon might not have thought through everything and would rather just trust Tommy not to cross any boundaries, so he goes to Jon’s house; over a bottle of wine, Tommy makes Jon work through all possibilities.

The two of them walk through boundaries (how violent are we talking here? Choking? Hitting? Bruises? Restraints? Pain?), hard nos (no butt stuff, as decided by literally everyone involved), and safe words. Tommy suggests “Paul Ryan,” but that’s too absurd for Jon.

Jon counters with “Congress?”

“Ew, gross, veto.” Tommy cringes. He grins when a new idea strikes him. “Ok, stop?”

“Deffffinitely not.” Jon shakes his head, chuckling.

Both of them are giggling from the wine, and they each start offering more and more ludicrous options (Filibuster! Russia! Leave it! Basta!). Things go completely off the rails when one of them says “Majority Whip” and they can’t breathe from laughing. Jon laughs with his whole entire body, and Tommy definitely feels some kind of way about it. He looks at Jon, who is struggling to not fall off his chair, doubled over and cackling, and silently promises, _‘I’m going to give you the time of your life.’_ Tommy’s face hurts from smiling so hard.

Once they’ve calmed back down and caught their breath, they talk about what they both like, their expectations, and what Jon wants. Tommy can tell Jon is trying to be confident in his answers, but it also seems like this is some stuff Jon hasn’t examined too closely before. Like maybe he got the idea and ran with it, but didn’t quite consider all the implications of his request. So Tommy is gentle and straightforward and walks him through each point. Tommy knows Jon thinks he’s being overly cautious, but he doesn’t care, this is too important. Besides, you can take the guy out of the Situation Room, but you can never really take the Situation Room out of the guy.

Tommy makes sure to suggest a trial run because he wants very much to get it right, and is stunned when Jon says “Actually, let’s maybe not? I sort of want when we do it for real to actually be my first time with a guy.”

“Holy shit, Jon.” Tommy feels like even his words are blushing, but he’s also turned on by Jon’s faith in him. Tommy resolves to do his best for Jon.

They’ve been talking for a while, and have pretty much covered all the bases when Jon says, “Hey Tom?”

“What’s up, buddy?”

“So, uh, you, like, know a lot about this stuff? I mean...” Jon trails off, gesturing broadly with his wine glass.

Tommy can feel his cheeks flush. “Oh. Um. I did some research. A while ago.”

Tommy, being the take-charge kind of guy that his is, prefers to keep the upper hand at all times and of course this extends into the bedroom. Previous women he’s slept with seemed to dig the whole gallantry-rescuer vibe, but he never wanted to take advantage, so he started reading up on different ways to establish consent. With the men he slept with, he didn’t just have to ensure their consent, but he quickly realized he needed to be very up front with what he wanted and be vocal about his own boundaries, or things could end up... not great.

With Hanna however, this conversation had been easy. It usually is when someone is so self-assured. She liked being held down, and Tommy liked providing that for her. Over time she started making suggestions, creating scenarios that got more elaborate and assertive as their relationship deepened. When he realized things were getting more intense Tommy went back to his research—moving beyond the intro-level Consent 101, to how to keep things safe while now enrolled in Advanced Power Dynamics 400. He absorbed all of it like it was an AfPak White Paper; more info means better planning, and better planning is always... better.

Jon is looking at Tommy with a quizzical face, like he’s expecting Tommy to say more. Tommy isn’t sure he wants to elaborate, at least not yet, so he jokes, “You know, for science.” Jon drops it.

++++

In the Lyft on his way home from Negotiations: The Sequel, Tommy is glad the hard conversations are finally out of the way. They are important and necessary—Tommy would _never_ skip this step—but they take a lot of energy and he wants to get to the fun part. Now that he has parameters, he knows where and how far he can push Jon. He’s still a little tipsy from the wine, and his mind starts to drift as he stares out the car window.

Tommy leans his head back against the headrest and looks at the street lights passing by. He doesn’t focus on anything, and the lights blur together. It’s kind of how his brain feels after spending so much time with Jon—bright but fuzzy. As LA slips past him, Tommy thinks about why he always takes on the dominant role. He has always had a complicated relationship with control. He loves it, but knows he can also hold on too tight, and it can be exhausting. It’s just always made him feel more secure to know he has the ability to make things happen the way he thinks they should. He remembers commandeering every group project back at Kenyon, because he would be damned if he was going to let anyone mess with his grade. Most people let him do it because it was easier than engaging in a power struggle over a stupid Kierkegaard presentation, even if it left people with the impression that he needed to chill the fuck out. Whatever.

Feeling out of control has always been a nightmare; as press secretary for the NSC there was so much he couldn’t control—from dangerous world leaders building nuclear arsenals to Jake Tapper not agreeing to use the messaging Tommy had spent so much time crafting. He learned to focus on the small things he can control—things like his breathing (with mixed results), the tidiness of his home (however frequently disrupted by Lovett), or how he can make his partners feel (on the edge of a cliff, if he’s really on his game).

And, so, he plans.

Tommy likes thinking through different options, deciding which ones will make his partner get off. Maybe it’s like a dirtier version of a “love language” (would this count as “physical touch” or “acts of service”?), but thinking about how he will make his partner fall to pieces is almost as good as actually doing it.

The control he relishes isn’t just a sex thing, it also helps him keep his emotions in check lest things get messy (which is obviously unacceptable). Tommy remembers studying Plato in college; Plato saw Reason and Emotion as two horses pulling in opposite directions but with reason as inherently superior. Tommy thinks Plato was definitely on to something, but he still wishes he was better at getting both horses to work together. Like, with the Reason Horse he feels like he has a pretty good (if not overly tight) grasp, but his Emotion Horse can sometimes take off without warning at a full gallop and Tommy ends up feeling like he’s stretched too far and might fly apart. Tommy sighs. What even is this metaphor? Thank god the Lyft driver doesn’t try to talk to him.

++++

Step 3 is now fully underway. Tommy has chosen a random bar hook-up as his framework, so first things first: choose the venue. He selects a place in Inglewood because it is far enough away from WeHo that the chances of running into anyone are slim. Plus, it’s right next to the airport, so new faces won’t stand out in a crowd of people who are all on their way to somewhere else. He goes there one evening while Hanna is at hot yoga to make sure it meets his needs. He sits at the bar sipping a beer and casually surveys the place. It’s dark and a little dive-y, but not seedy. Anonymous. Tommy declines the phone number of a Tall, Dark, & Handsome in a Florence + The Machine T-shirt and skinny jeans (he could have been an executive or a hair stylist—sometimes it can be hard to tell in LA). He finishes his beer. This place will do just fine.

The other advantage of being near the airport is lots of hotels in walking distance. Tommy chooses one that is newer, with more modern-style rooms. He’s not sure why that’s so important, but it feels more... impersonal. He doesn’t want Jon to be distracted by his surroundings; he wants Jon to be able to focus on him, let _him_ be the reason Jon is uncomfortable.

Tommy thinks about what he plans to do to Jon. He knows there won’t be any penetration, per their consent agreement, but he thinks hinting at it might be just the right amount of aggression, so he goes to a drugstore on the way home from the bar to pick up some condoms and lube. For _ambiance_. Tommy also hasn’t decided if he will tie Jon up but it’s definitely on the table, so maybe he will give himself some flexibility and leave that as a game-time decision.

Things are shaping up nicely.

++++

It’s the day before Step 4. Yesterday outside Little Marco after a staff meeting Tommy had given Jon a coaster from the bar with “Saturday, 9pm” printed neatly in Sharpie. Jon had looked at the coaster in bewilderment, and then looked at Tommy. Tommy had just stared at him, and understanding slowly unfurled across Jon’s face. Tanya brushed past them right at that moment and Jon had nervously shoved the coaster into his back pocket. “Don’t be late,” Tommy had said evenly as he coolly walked back to his desk. The rest of the afternoon Jon had seemed a little off-kilter, which was exactly the effect Tommy had hoped for.

Today, Tommy tries not to be too preoccupied, though he keeps going over his mental check list preparing for tomorrow. He wants so badly to get his hands on Jon, tell him what to do, show him the power he really possesses. He knows he can take Jon places he’s never been before and this thought is intoxicating. Jon is working at his desk which is situated perpendicular to Tommy’s. Jon’s got his desktop, laptop, and phone all in front of him, with probably 25 various windows and/or internet tabs open on each device, and is unconsciously running his tongue along his top lip as he reads. Tommy, for his part, is very conscious of it.

It continually amazes Tommy the amount of information Jon is able to process at once, and then synthesize it all into a cohesive narrative. He does it day after day, and it’s always impressive. It takes Tommy so long to prep for each PSTW, probably because he over-prepares, tbh, but what are you going to do. He’s just glad he only has to do it once a week. Tommy glances over the top of Jon’s computer monitor, catches his eye, and winks at him. Jon startles and his eyes dart to look at the clock? The door? His hands? He finally settles his gaze on his laptop screen, fidgeting awkwardly in his seat. Tommy hides a sly smile in the book he’s reading for his next interview.

A few hours later they are shutting down the office for the day; it’s just the two of them, and as Tommy gathers his belongings, he thinks about how they are T-minus however many hours until Go Time. He can feel his anticipation rising and suddenly Tommy realizes he’s left something off his check list. They’re about to walk out of the door when Tommy brushes his hand against Jon’s shoulder. He can feel Jon’s wiry muscles through the thin Friend of the Pod T-shirt and it makes Tommy’s stomach clench at the thought of shoving that shoulder down hard against a bed. Tommy blushes and has to look at the floor to regroup.

“What is it, Tom?” Jon asks. God, Tommy loves it when Jon calls him “Tom”. No one else calls him that. _Get a hold of yourself, Vietor, Jesus._

“Jon, would you let me kiss you?” He feels a little bad that he didn’t bring this up in their previous conversation, but it wasn’t something he recognized was important to him until right now. He presses on anyway, “Now, I mean. I know you want to… go in blind or whatever, but it just feels too weird to me to ‘do stuff’ with someone without having kissed them first.”

Jon looks anxiouspleasedmystified, but tries to play it cool with a joke that doesn’t quite get there: “Such a gentleman.”

Tommy looks at him, silently repeating the question, so Jon will take him seriously. Jon nods, and Tommy steps forward and presses his mouth to Jon’s. Jon smells of Harry’s shaving cream (minty!) and his lips taste like, fuck, they taste like cherry ChapStick for fuck’s sake. Tommy knows now is not the time, not yet, so he controls the kiss, keeping it soft and slow even though his mind is buzzing. He can feel Jon start to lean into it, so he breaks away before things get out of hand.

“Okay, so that was that. Um, thanks.” Tommy tries to keep it… what, professional? Unclear, but he’s glad to get that out of the way so he will be able to focus better tomorrow.

“You’re a good kisser,” Jon says, a little clumsily.

Tommy chuckles, picks up his messenger bag, and thinks, _‘You have no idea, buddy.’_ Out loud, he says, “See you tomorrow! Wear something you’re not too careful with.”

Tommy leaves Jon standing paralyzed in the doorway, and as he walks into the warm LA evening, he feels much more confident about things to come.

++++

Tommy checks into the hotel late Saturday afternoon, with some time to kill. Everything in the room is white, clinical. Functional. Tommy lays down for a bit, flipping through the channels, not really paying attention to anything in particular. He settles on a Red Sox game, which seems fitting. He checks Twitter, likes Lovett’s tweets, retweets something about healthcare from Andy Slavitt. He takes a power nap.

At 7:00pm he gets up to take a shower. He lets the hot water relax him, as he runs (yet again) through all the things he and Jon discussed. He thinks about his plan for the evening. He thinks about Jon. Beautiful Jon, who came to him(!) and trusted him with his most private desire. He thinks back to the time Jon brought him a cup of coffee late one night in the press room and helped him draft a statement about Libya, even though he could have just gone home. He thinks about the nights during the White House years when he couldn’t sleep and he would jerk off to Jon’s smile. He thinks about grabbing that pretty face and forcing Jon back against a wall, grinding his hips hard against Jon’s. Tommy shakes his head and takes a deep breath, inhaling the steam from the shower, slowly exhaling it. _Remember the image of the duck, Vietor, keep it smooth._

Tommy gets out of the shower and towels himself dry. He shaves, then puts on his selected outfit—black V-neck T-shirt, jeans, gray socks, black shoes. Knowing Jon would normally expect something cute like Batman or tigers on his socks, Tommy had decided to go in the opposite direction. It’s a small detail, but Tommy loves his silly socks, and the plain gray ones will keep him grounded during tonight’s role play. Continuing with the minimalism theme, he opts against using any product in his hair, so it ends up curling a little more than usual. After a significant internal debate, he adds a silver chain that he hasn’t worn since college; it reminds him of someone he met once. Lastly, to set the stage, Tommy remakes the bed, pulls down the blinds, and sets the lube and condoms neatly on the bedside table. He thinks about the duck, replaces the image with a shark, and walks out into the night.

++++

Tommy gets to the bar around 8:30 so he is sure to be there before Jon. It’s busy, but not packed. He settles into a dark corner, nurses his whisky neat and waits. At exactly 8:55, he sees Jon walk into the bar and pause, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He’s wearing a gray Henley and tight black jeans. Tommy takes the opportunity to really look at Jon in a way that he doesn’t usually get the chance to. The jeans are tantalizingly snug across Jon’s strong runner’s thighs and the shirt looks… disposable. _Yes_. Tommy can definitely work with this. Jon looks around, but doesn’t see Tommy, so he takes a seat at the bar and orders a drink. Tommy looks at him from the shadows with fondness, thinking of how out of his element Jon must feel. He lets Jon wait.

At 9:05, Tommy watches a cute guy approach Jon. He’s blond like Tommy, but shorter and stockier, maybe a rugby player. Jon appears to let him down easy. Another guy, tall but schlubby, tries to seal the deal at 9:15. Tommy wonders what Jon is thinking, with all this newfound masculine attention. Almost immediately _another_ dude approaches Jon and Tommy has had _quite_ enough of this feeding frenzy. In fact, he feels an immediate, and entirely unexpected, wave of possessiveness over Jon and what he _actually_ wants is to drag this latest guy out of the bar and shout “You don’t get to have him!!!” right in his hideous (i.e., completely normal) face. Maybe shove him a little, for good measure. Tommy takes several deep, calming breaths and waits to see what Jon does. He can’t hear Jon, but he can see him smile apologetically at the guy. He looks so earnest and Tommy can’t wait to wipe that adorable smile off his face.

While Jon is distracted, Tommy moves to a table directly behind him. Strike three wanders off, and Tommy bores his eyes into the back of Jon’s head with a ferocity that surprises even himself. As if he could feel the intensity radiating from Tommy’s laser stare, Jon suddenly perks up and glances around, then looks back over his shoulder. His eyes land right on Tommy. Tommy leans into his look and hungrily licks his lips. Jon’s eyes go wide.

Tommy gets up and walks slowly over to Jon, pressing his hand against Jon’s lower back as he slides in next to him. Tommy doesn’t sit; he wants to maintain a slight power imbalance, keep Jon on his toes, so he uses his height to his advantage. He leans down with a leer and says, “Let me buy you a drink.” It’s not a request.

“I already have drink,” Jon replies.

Tommy ignores him and walks over to the bartender. He orders a La Croix for himself and a Diet Coke for Jon; he wants them both to be fully aware of what is happening tonight. The bartender sighs at the lack of alcohol in Tommy’s order, but Tommy tips him well to make up for it.

Tommy takes his time walking back to Jon. It gives him a moment to really sink into character, but it also broadcasts to Jon that he will be the one deciding the pace of the evening. When he returns, he hands Jon his drink. Jon takes a sip and looks up at Tommy, immediately getting it. “Thanks,” he says.

Tommy notices that Jon is wearing his wedding ring. _Interesting choice._ Tommy wonders if Jon even thought about it when he put it on. Tommy leans back on the bar on his elbows, and lets Jon look at him. He finally turns towards Jon and looks at him with disdain. He glances obviously at Jon’s left hand, then at his dumb shirt, and finally at his face. “This your idea of dressing up for a tumble on the wild side?” he sneers. The line has the intended effect of leaving Jon slow to respond. _‘Good,’_ Tommy thinks.

“It can’t be that bad, I still managed to catch your attention,” Jon finally responds.

“Pathetic,” Tommy condescends. Tommy knows (intimately) the effect Jon has on people. Jon is so charming, so effortlessly attractive; he has wielded significant power in the White House as the voice of the president, and now holds significant social influence with a burgeoning media company and a massively successful podcast. Tommy doubts Jon has ever had the experience of being made to feel small and insignificant. “If that’s all the moves you’ve got I can tell you right now that your only chance of getting laid tonight is to go home with me.”

As Tommy watches Jon trying to formulate a retort, he notices out of the corner of his eye that the bartender is taking a special interest in their interaction. Jon’s posture stiffens. Shit. Tommy has to shut that down, so he puts his arm around Jon and gives the bartender the brightest smile he can muster. Tommy can feel the tension leave Jon’s shoulders as the bartender rolls his eyes and wanders off.

++++

Tommy slides back, leaning his side against the bar, but leaves his hand on Jon’s thigh. Playing the stranger, he asks without any actual interest, “So what do you do?”

Jon blinks at Tommy’s shift back into character and says, “Um, I, uh, well, I host a political podcast.”

Tommy looks at him and says sarcastically, “Yeah, I’m sure. You really seem to have a way with words.” Jon swallows as Tommy runs his hand further up Jon’s thigh.

“Anyway, it sounds boring,” Tommy says.

Jon responds a little defensively, “Uh, a lot of people, you know, listen to it.”

Tommy looks around the bar, avoiding Jon’s eyes, and sighs “I bet you think that makes you special.”

Jon shifts on his barstool, the dissonance between Tommy’s intimate touching and verbal cruelty clearly getting to him. Tommy is standing very close to Jon, with one hand now on his waist and the other hand on Jon’s face, effectively caging him in. Tommy leans a little closer and drags a finger down Jon’s nose as if he was a puppy, finally meeting Jon’s eyes with a coldness that makes Jon inhale sharply.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” Tommy says, his voice dripping with menace.

Jon looks rattled, and Tommy gets a rush from knowing he can do this to Jon, keep him off balance. Poor sweet Jon, who has never had to develop the coping skills to deal with this verbal abuse. Jon tries again, “I mean, I have a million Twitter followers.”

“Oh! A little full of ourselves aren’t we?” Tommy scoffs as he strokes Jon’s arm, staring at nothing over his shoulder. “People on Twitter are stupid, and you aren’t really that bright, so I guess that’s on brand for you.”

Jon is visibly searching for something to say, but Tommy interrupts his train of thought. “Drink up. We’re leaving.” Jon takes a sip of his Diet Coke when Tommy abruptly turns and walks out of the bar, and Jon has to scramble to keep up.

Tommy walks briskly in the direction of the hotel. He has a bit of a head start but he can hear Jon’s footsteps as he hurries to catch up. _Time to step it up._ Out of nowhere, he grabs Jon’s ass. There is no one around, just ambient sounds, so Tommy knows there is no actual risk, but he still knows the reaction he’ll get because he’s been there himself. As expected, Jon tenses and looks around furtively. Tommy laughs and secretly notes how incredible Jon’s ass feels in his hand.

“Brave enough to drag your ass to a gay bar, but not brave enough to have it grabbed in public, eh? How does it feel to be such a goddamn cliché, straight boy?” It’s a little trippy to hear these words—from a memory he thought he had buried but which in reality is suspiciously fresh—now coming out of Tommy’s own mouth. They taste metallic and make Tommy want to spit. He is instantaneously hyper-aware of the silver chain he put on earlier, the clasp catching on a hair at the nape of his neck.

Suddenly, Jon touches Tommy’s arm and shifts so they’re fully facing each other.

“Hey Tom… Is this… you working through some shit of your own here?”

Jon used his name _(Tommmm)_ , so Tommy knows he’s breaking the scene. He blushes a little and looks down to see genuine concern all over Jon’s Serious Face. They are close enough that Tommy can smell Jon’s shaving cream and he flashes back to yesterday, feeling Jon’s lips soft on his mouth.

He shrugs, “Hey, Jon, don’t worry about it. Sure, I have some… points of reference, I guess, but I’m extrapolating pretty wildly from them. Some people are just shitty.”

Tommy isn’t extrapolating all that wildly, to be honest, and there are—shall we say—multiple points of reference, but Tommy doesn’t want the look of worry on Jon’s face to deepen, and besides, this isn’t about him. This is about Jon. Tommy smiles warmly, though briefly, at Jon and turns on his heel, heading off towards the hotel.

Tommy shakes off the image of Jon anxiously looking up at him, and spends the rest of the short walk gearing up for what’s ahead. His muscles feel taut, coiled like a wire. All of the expectations and preparations—from the negotiating, to the planning, and then their brief intro-kiss yesterday—are bubbling to the surface and Tommy is so ready for action. When they reach the front of the hotel Tommy forcefully grabs Jon’s wrist. He pulls Jon into him, hard, yanking Jon off balance, and grips Jon’s wrist tight against his chest. This rough contact makes Tommy’s stomach flip, and he has to work to keep his face from showing anything. _Pace yourself, Vietor. This is only the beginning._

Jon gets his feet under him and looks up at Tommy as if the wind has been knocked out of him. With one hand keeping Jon’s wrist close, Tommy uses his other hand to scrape a finger along Jon’s jawline, softly at first, but ending with his fingernail sharp under Jon’s chin.

“Not chickening out yet, straight boy?” Tommy asks, successfully making his voice sound both soft and hard at the same time.

Jon coughs, “No, I…”

Tommy, impatient, spits out “Come on then,” and for the third time that night he leaves Jon in his wake.

They get in the room and Tommy watches Jon take it in as they kick off their shoes. Tommy is standing very close behind Jon, so when Jon’s eyes stop on the lube and condoms on the night stand, Tommy can feel him suck in a breath. Tommy is pleased at their intended effect, and continues to observe as Jon takes a few tentative steps around the room. Jon looks down and notices Tommy’s socks, and Tommy can see Jon contemplate their meaning. Tommy keeps staring darkly at Jon, and Jon—clearly suddenly overwhelmed—actually whimpers. Tommy smells the blood in the water, seizes on Jon’s moment of uncertainty, and laughs right in his face.

“Jeez, try to be a little less desperate for it.”

Jon recoils a step backwards and turns a shade of red Tommy has never seen on him before. It gives Tommy a jolt of excitement and he needs to get his hands on Jon immediately.

“Come here, then” he demands, and as Jon steps toward him, Tommy shoves him, with significant force (and significant satisfaction) onto the bed.

Jon’s face clouds over before he sputters “What the fu- what’s wrong with you, man?” trying to recover some composure.

Tommy towers over him, and his brain immediately goes to every talking head that ever made fun of him for saying “Dude, that was, like, two years ago,” during a Fox News interview. _Fucking Benghazi. Fucking Brett Baier._

“‘What’s wrong with you, _man_?’” he echoes. “Why, what’s the problem, _dude_? Should have stuck to girls if you wanted me to be all ladylike and gentle, _bro_.”

Jon looks up at him with—is that awe?

“Cat got your tongue, _homeboy_?”

_Ah, fuck, that was too much._ Tommy scrunches his nose as Jon lets out a giggle. Tommy can’t help himself; he starts to laugh too. He takes a deep breath and figures now is as good a time as any to make sure Jon is still cool with how things are going.

“Everything fine, this far?”

“Yeah, _bro_ ,” Jon says with a smile. _That damn smile._ Tommy allows his own smile to take over his face for the briefest of moments before he tucks it away, his face hardening. Jon’s smile falters at this, as if he had felt a tremor underneath him, the way you sometimes do in California. His suddenly uneasy expression makes Tommy feel smug.

“Well, enough joking around,” Tommy says, his voice steely. “I see you have no initiative of your own whatsoever, so I’ll just have to put you to use myself.”

Tommy quickly shoves Jon’s shoulders back, crawls over him so his knees are on either side of Jon’s hips, his right hand on Jon’s shoulder pressing him down (and it’s as good as Tommy imagined it), his left hand reaching down to grab Jon’s crotch, sliding over his dick and down around his balls. It happens so fast Jon barely has a chance to react, but Tommy can tell (feel) that he likes it. He leans his face a little closer to Jon’s.

Just to be that much more unnerving, Tommy adopts a breezy approach: “When I went out tonight I meant to pick up some pretty twink and have him bouncing on my dick in no time. But somehow I got stuck with you, who’d need like an hour of preparation for me not to split you in half – not that that isn’t an appealing idea in itself…” #PointOfReference

Tommy can feel Jon’s breath quicken and his dick twitching under Tommy’s hand, so he knows he’s on the right track, even if Jon is having a hard time focusing on Tommy’s face. Which, frankly will not do. Tommy _loves_ eye contact and has learned over the years how to strategically deploy it, and he wills Jon to maintain it as he continues.

“Anyway, I guess I’m just gonna have to have you suck me off, which you’ll probably suck at too, no pun intended. Your mouth sure looks like it was made for it, though.” Tommy knows how cliché it sounds, but, fuck, it’s also very true. He’s been thinking a lot about Jon’s mouth lately, which isn’t entirely unusual, but it has certainly intensified since the barbecue, and it’s ratcheted up to 11 in the 24 hours since the kiss in the office.

Jon looks flustered, but tries to recover by saying “You’re not a little presumptuous.”

Tommy knows he can’t let Jon’s mouth get the better of him so he says with as much ice in his voice as possible, “I’m _really_ not.”

Tommy channels the chill from his voice through his veins, stands up off the bed, and without blinking slowly starts to unbuckle his belt. It’s a lot of effort to keep his breathing even, but Tommy tries to shift his focus to be all on Jon instead of himself. _You are here for Jon, remember?_

“This is going to happen whether you like it or not, straight boy,” Tommy says, fixating on Jon. “It’s time someone taught you that you can’t just come running to gay bars whenever your pathetic little straight life starts to feel suffocating and just take what you want without giving anything back.” #NotSoWildExtrapolation

Jon sits up on the bed. “Wow, you really are an asshole.” Jon sounds legitimately angry and this pushback from Jon is just what Tommy wants.

With pure, precise calculation, Tommy slaps Jon’s beautiful fucking face.

++++

Jon looks stunnedawedoverwhelmed as he gingerly touches his cheek. Tommy has never seen anything hotter in his entire life. He immediately wants to grab Jon by the throat, feel his blood pulsing under his fingertips, watch his face turn red, hear him gasp for air… but that’s not on the “Kosher” list, so Tommy files it away for future reference. He allows Jon to gather himself and watches as Jon decides what to do next. Jon pushes himself off the bed and seems determined to reach the door. Tommy can’t let that happen.

Tommy can still feel the sweet sting of the slap on his palm when he grabs Jon’s bicep. Jon whips around in a move Tommy didn’t anticipate, and Tommy loses a bit of his grip on Jon’s arm. _‘Yes, get feisty, baby,’_ Tommy thinks with a thrill. Tommy lunges forward and swiftly comes down hard across Jon’s forearm as Jon reaches for the door handle, and simultaneously wraps both of his arms around Jon’s shoulders, holding his arms tight against his sides. If he can’t choke him, at least Tommy can make it a _little_ difficult for Jon to breathe.

Just when Tommy is about to move to haul Jon backwards, Jon starts squirming, trying to get a leg around Tommy’s. Tommy abruptly releases Jon, which leaves Jon completely unbalanced. He follows it up with a nice little push in the back, sending Jon sprawling. Jon quickly gets up onto all fours; Tommy admires his ass from above this time, remembering how it felt in his hand.

“Ah, such a pretty sight” Tommy says as he regains control over his breathing. And truly, Jon on all fours is quite a vision to behold.

Jon spins around so he is facing Tommy right when Tommy was going to grab him from behind. Still on his knees, Jon manages to evade Tommy’s grasp, which is irritating, but Tommy reaches out again and grabs Jon’s shirt. Using his forward momentum, Tommy shovepulls Jon against the side of the bed so that Tommy is now crouching in front of him, eye to eye with Jon. Jon immediately starts to scramble to get his feet under him. Calmly Tommy thinks, _‘Nope,’_ and he swiftly grabs Jon’s wrists. Jon is still fighting though, so perfect for Tommy, and Tommy gets his knees on top of Jon’s thighs, straddling him, leaning all of his weight onto Jon’s lap. For a moment, they just sit there, Tommy on top of Jon with Jon’s wrists firmly in his hands. Tommy can feel Jon’s thighs shift under his knees. They are both breathing hard from the struggle, Jon a bit more so than Tommy. Tommy looks down his nose at Jon with cool detachment as Jon catches his breath and seems to inadvertently get absorbed with Tommy’s collarbone, which is now right at Jon’s eye level.

Tommy relishes the feeling of Jon pinned under him, but not for too long. Tommy rolls back onto his feet, pulling Jon up with him, and then pushing him back and down on the bed. Tommy again crawls over him but this time he uses his knee to hold Jon down so he can have his hands free, because shit is about to get real.

++++

Tommy finishes unbuckling his belt and unceremoniously whips it out of his belt loops, maintaining eye contact with Jon all the while. Jon’s eyes are fully dilated and Tommy feels Jon shudder under him. “Jesus, what are you doing?” Jon asks. Jon’s body is tense, and his face is frantic, but his voice belies his exhilaration. Maybe Jon figured he wasn’t going to get tied up during his initial assessment of the room and/or he hadn’t accounted for makeshift restraints. Tommy guesses all of the above.

“I told you this will happen whether you like it or not,” Tommy reminds him. Tommy is wrapping and unwrapping the belt around his hands as he speaks, knowing what he must look like. Tommy sees the desire in Jon’s face, but he can also tell Jon is trying to decide how to play it. Tommy lets him.

Unexpectedly, Jon shoves himself up, throwing Tommy off balance, and manages to roll over so his hands are under him. Somehow he gets a leg free. SHIT. Tommy is pissed he let his guard down, pissed he gave Jon too much space to think, and pissed Jon is getting out of bounds. He needs to get a handle on things, and fast. Tommy manages to get a hold of Jon’s leg and yanks him back. He gets his hands on Jon’s shoulders and shifts forward, pushing all of his weight onto Jon’s torso. He presses his face into Jon’s ear and quietly says, “Hey now, don’t make me do something dangerous.” _Chill the fuck out, Favreau._ Jon, face down on the bed now, keeps squirming under him and Tommy grunts as he maintains control. He has his knees on either side of Jon and he squeezes them to hold Jon still while he moves his hands from his shoulders to grab Jon’s wrists and yank them behind his back. Jon seems to get the message, and calms down enough to allow Tommy the chance to get the belt around his wrists safely.

++++

Tommy double-checks Jon’s circulation once he has the belt secured.

“There you are,” he says, and he is finally able to stand up off the bed. Jon rolls onto his side and looks at Tommy out of the corner of his eye.

“Not trying to get away anymore, are we?” Tommy asks, as if he was speaking to a toddler. “Good that we’re finally on the same page about that. Now you should just do as I say and I’ll let you go home and try to repress this in whatever way you prefer.” #AlsoAPointOfReference

“You’re crazy,” Jon says.

Tommy regards Jon for a second before leaning back over him. Tommy grabs his ~~throat~~ shirt collar and pushes Jon back into the bed, then decides to just keep going with it, and climbs back onto his knees and pulls Jon up so his face is inches from Tommy’s. Tommy clenches his teeth as he stares into the dark pools of Jon’s eyes. He sits back and moves to slap him again, but Jon, the little minx, has other ideas. He turns his head and opens his mouth, about to bite Tommy. That is _not_ on the menu of options.

“What the f-…?” Tommy blurts out as he drops Jon back onto the bed. Jon bounces softly and Tommy can see the edges of Jon’s mouth curl up as he looks up at him through his eyelashes. _Ohhhh_. It was just a trick to get Tommy to let him go. Tommy is both annoyed and aroused by this sneaky little move.

“Why, you little…” he starts to say, but his eyes give him away and Jon sees it. Jon smiles at him and Tommy can hardly help himself. That motherfucking smile gets him every time. _Goddammit_. Tommy closes his eyes and resets. He grabs Jon’s face with one hand.

“Now, you _can_ make this more difficult than it has to be,” Tommy whispers, his nose almost touching Jon’s cheek, Jon’s mouth squished in Tommy’s tight grip, “but we both know who has the advantage here. So what you _are_ gonna do, straight boy, is cooperate. You’ll get on your knees on the floor, and you’ll suck me off. And if you do reasonably well – I’m not expecting wonders from some random hetbro – I’ll even let you get off too.” #NotQuiteAPointOfReferenceButPrettyClose

Given what they previously agreed to it’s pretty much the only option left for Tommy, but that’s more than fine by him.

“Please, ma-… I mean, please, just let me go,” Jon starts to really hit his stride in the scene, “I’ve learned whatever lesson you wanted to teach me, I won’t…”

“Come touristing into gayness again?” Tommy fills in the rest of the sentence for him.

“Yeah, that, I won’t do that, please, you can’t… you can’t be serious about this, I don’t wanna… I can’t… please…”

Jon is looking up at Tommy with big doe-eyes, desperate both to leave and to stay. Tommy doesn’t care what Jon thinks he wants; Tommy knows what he wants and Tommy will give it to him. He backs off the bed and undoes the fly to his jeans. He’s wearing generic underwear to match generic socks, antiseptic hotel rooms, and nameless hook ups. He shoves his jeans down as Jon closes his eyes.

Tommy gives him a second, then instructs him, “Now come here.”

Jon is momentarily frozen, so Tommy (ever cautious) breaks the scene. “Hey, Jon, you okay buddy?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I just need a minute, get back in character,” Jon says, and Tommy can hear some apprehension behind his words. “Maybe three minutes.”

“All right,” Tommy says. He pulls his pants up to give Jon some mental breathing room. He doesn’t want to push. Well, he does, but it’s fine; pushing Jon’s boundaries is the whole reason he’s here, but he also knows he has to be careful. Push too fast or too hard and everything can fall apart. Push Jon just enough and he’ll stretch into something he didn’t know he even wanted. Tommy will make sure he gets him there in one piece.

Tommy decides Jon needs some nudging to move forward. When he thinks Jon is ready, Tommy pushes his pants back down and says “Keep your eyes closed if you need to, straight boy, but come over here and make yourself useful.”

Jon has apparently gotten over himself, because he does as Tommy says, rolling himself up off the bed. He steps towards Tommy with the slightest hint of timidity, but again, Jon’s mouth gives him away as he licks his lips. With all of his energy and focus on Jon, Tommy had been almost unaware of how hard he has gotten. But with Jon standing here in front of him, shirt rumpled, hair mussed, arms pulled back behind him, Tommy is positive he’s never wanted anything more. All the images of Memory_Jon locked in Tommy’s head could never compare to Actual_Jon wild-eyed, pink-cheeked, and real, standing right in front of him.

Jon’s looking directly into his eyes, so Tommy knows he feels safe enough to proceed.

Tommy tilts his head, as if to say, go on Jon, you know what to do. Jon _does_ know what to do, and obediently gets on his knees. Tommy reaches down and grasps his jaw, tilting it back up towards Tommy. Tommy’s dick is right in Jon’s face and Tommy is aching to cram it in Jon’s mouth and see what he can take. Actually, he doesn’t care what Jon can take. He’ll give it to Jon anyway.

“Now be good for me,” Tommy says nastily.

The second the words are out of his mouth Tommy realizes something isn’t right. Jon deflates, his eyes unfocused, and he looks lost. Tommy pauses, immediately concerned and trying to figure out where he went wrong. Jon is still quiet, so Tommy throws him a life preserver.

“Iowa?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t tell me to be good or that I’m doing well or anything like that.”

Roger that. Tommy doesn’t know why it triggered Jon, but if it doesn’t work for Jon that’s all the information Tommy needs. Tommy apologizes, and decides he should probably check Jon’s circulation while everything is paused, so he crouches down to check for capillary refill.

Jon wiggles his fingers to confirm everything is good, and replies, “It’s fine. You didn’t know—I didn’t know.”

Tommy looks at Jon with gentle eyes. They smile at each other, reassured. Tommy feels intensely protective of Jon, so he kisses his temple for a little extra contact.

As Tommy stands back up, he sheds the kindness and says, “Now put that mouth to some use.” _Game on._

++++

“No, please, I don’t think I can, I won’t be any good like you said, let me go and you can find that pretty twink instead, someone who knows how to make this good for you, I don’t want to, you don’t really…”

Jon is speaking nonsense, but Tommy isn’t listening anyway. He knows what’s going to happen, Jon’s body language says he can keep going, and it’s time to level up. Tommy decides he’s had enough of Jon’s protests and unceremoniously shoves his dick into Jon’s mouth.

_Oh, sweet baby in a manger._

Tommy’s gotten plenty of blowjobs from dudes, but he knows Jon’s never done it before so he gives Jon a second for his brain to catch up. Plus, it gives Tommy time to savor the moment. He looks down at Jon with his mouth full and he can hardly stand it. _That mouth._ He can feel Jon sorting it out in his head, moving his mouth around Tommy. Christ, Tommy’s skin is on fire. Tommy presses into Jon because he can’t not, and Jon is now actively sucking him. Tommy can feel every bit of Jon’s tongue and it’s too much but also not enough. Tommy is struggling to keep this about Jon, but Jon just feels so fucking good, and right now Tommy wants nothing more than to fuck his lovely throat.

Tommy notices that Jon is really… _trying_. Jon is his best friend and has always been an over-achiever and a people-pleaser, so Tommy isn’t actually surprised. It’s kind of sweet, even. Tommy is happy that he was able to get Jon to this point, feeling comfortable enough to not just let it happen to him. And for a beginner, Jon is actually doing pretty well. _So typical._ Jon begins experimenting with different angles, licking Tommy’s head, swirling his tongue, really going for it. Tommy starts to lose himself in the sensations. Jon feels amazing and he looks incredible, Tommy’s dick glistening with Jon’s spit, sliding in and out of Jon’s lips. Tommy starts breathing harder, and just then Jon accidently lets his teeth get away from him and drags them roughly against the length of Tommy’s cock. Tommy grunts involuntarily, his eyes snap open, and he glowers down at Jon. Jon cringes; a rookie mistake. Tommy grabs Jon by the hair and yanks his head back, a line of drool running down Jon’s chin. Tommy can tell Jon feels terrible about it, so Tommy leans into that emotion.

“Watch your teeth, straight boy. I knew you would be useless at this.” Tommy’s voice is rough, but he knows Jon is probably berating himself already, so he doesn’t want to pile on _too_ much. Tommy has certainly done worse, so he lets it go and thrusts his dick back into Jon’s mouth.

Wait. What is happening? Is Jon… _humming_?

_‘Where did you pick up this little nugget?’_ Tommy wonders as his dick jerks with the sudden vibrations. _Don’t lose it, Vietor._

Tommy dials back in. “Oh, so you’ve got some tricks after all, straight boy?” though it doesn’t come out as snarkily as Tommy meant it to. Shit. He’s. So distracted. He tries to concentrate on figuring out the tune Jon is humming, but it doesn’t sound (feel?) like anything specific. Fuck FUCK _FUCK_. Tommy is spiraling out of his mind. Oh, oh, Jesus, oh. Tommy starts driving his hips into Jon and Jon is doing everything he can to keep up, stay balanced given his restraints. Oh god, Tommy’s so close. He squeezes his eyes shut. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Tommy is gasping, dizzy, doesn’t know where to look, heart pounding. Oh god, oh fuck. And just then, Tommy focuses his eyes, zeroes in on Jon’s perfect face and realizes he wants to make a fucking mess out of it. He grabs Jon by the hair with both hands, yanks him off and comes all over him.

Ohhhhh fuuuuuckkkkkk.

Tommy looks at Jon, who is confusedspeechlesssticky. Tommy can’t help but stare, mouth agape, breathing hard. He wants to smear his come all over Jon’s face and into his hair. He wants to jerk off onto his own stomach and make Jon lick it up. He wants to smack Jon’s face with his dick. So many possibilities. Tommy files them away too, just in case. Tommy’s breath starts to slow and he sees Jon looking up at him, blinking, looking for direction. _‘Right,’_ Tommy thinks, _‘He needs you to know where he stands, so pay attention Vietor, this isn’t about you.’_ Tommy strokes Jon’s cheek, but then decides that Jon looks a little too pleased with himself and needs another wrinkle.

“I’m clean, but this way you don’t have to worry about it,” Tommy says, nonchalantly. “You should be thankful.” #DefinitePointOfReference

Jon looks properly revolted as he processes this statement. Tommy doesn’t let him dwell on it as he shoves Jon up and onto the bed. Tommy smirks when Jon bounces, saying plainly, “Your turn.”

Tommy grabs Jon’s shirt and shoves it up over his head. While it’s covering Jon’s face like a makeshift blindfold, Tommy takes a moment to admire his chest and pinch his nipples, hard. Then he yanks it the rest of the way over Jon’s head and down his arms, crumpling it around the belt at Jon’s wrists while he covertly checks Jon’s circulation.

“You’re very quiet, straight boy,” he says. “Did blowing me blow your mind?”

Jon is about to say something, but Tommy no longer cares about the answer. He grabs Jon’s stiff dick instead. Jon gasps and Tommy can tell his mind has gone blank, just where Tommy wants him.

“Yeah, I knew you liked it, you fucking weirdo,” Tommy hisses as he unzips Jon’s jeans. #SomePeopleAreShitty

He grasps Jon’s dick, and the Vulcan-mind-meld kicks in. _Smooth deployment._ Tommy can’t risk looking at Jon or he might crack up. He reaches for the lube instead, squeezes some out, and deftly wraps his fingers around Jon. He knows the lube is cold, and Jon gasps at the chill. _‘Note to self,’_ Tommy thinks, _‘keep it in the fridge next time.’_ Next time? _Don’t get ahead of yourself, Vietor._ Tommy wishes he could take a moment to admire Jon’s spectacular cock, red and velvet-smooth, but he doesn’t want to give Jon any time to get oriented. Tommy starts jacking him, hard and fast, and Jon is coming undone. Tommy wants to send him to outer space and he’s almost there. He works Jon’s dick like a piston and Jon, to Tommy’s glee, has lost the ability to form words and is reduced to just sounds. Jon’s legs are twitching, his breath coming in short bursts, his back arching, his eyes rolling back into his head. He couldn’t control his body if he had a gun to his head and Tommy, still working him, looks at him in wonder. Jon is so gorgeous he’s virtually _incandescent_. Finally, with a few artful rolls of Tommy’s wrist, Jon comes all over his hand; grunting, sighing, gasping for air. To add to the mess of Jon, Tommy wipes his hand off on Jon’s abs because why not? Jon is panting, gelatinous, and practically incoherent.

Tommy sits serenely next to Jon and gives him time to drift back to shore. After a minute or so, Tommy scoots closer to Jon and Jon looks up at him sideways, face still pressed into the bed, attempting to focus his eyes like a telescope on Tommy’s face.

“End of scene,” Tommy says quietly, and Jon exhales a small laugh. Tommy looks at Jon with a warmth he’s never let himself feel before and his face crinkles into a grin. He starts laughing too, both of them feeling the emotional flood.

Tommy leans over to Jon (since he still hasn’t really moved), gently tucks Jon back into his briefs and kisses his forehead softly, saying, “I’ll be right back.”

In the bathroom, Tommy leans against the counter, marveling at what has just transpired. He takes off his shirt and the silver chain to get some air and officially shed his character. He counts to thirty as he washes his hands, feeling the need to re-center himself after the physical and psychological effort he just went through. This was far better than any scene he’s participated in before, and it’s going to take some time for him to process it, maybe revisit what’s on that back burner. But that is for later; Tommy’s needs are secondary. Right now he needs to go look after Jon, make sure he is grounded back in reality, make sure he feels safe. His whole life all Tommy ever wanted was for people to feel safe.

Tommy walks back to the bed, a warm damp washcloth in his hand. He gazes at Jon laying there, still a little subspacey. Tommy loves seeing Jon like this, knowing he did this to Jon. He hesitates to think he could ever see Jon like this again, so Tommy takes an extra second and tries to sear it into his memory. _‘Maybe,’_ he thinks pensively.

“If this had been for real, what would have happened now?” Jon asks the blanket.

Tommy slides next to Jon, carefully rolling him forward so he can undo the belt around his wrists. Considering the question, he runs his hands up and down Jon’s arms to give Jon’s brain some kinesthetic input that will slow any dissociative thoughts.

He loosens the belt and says, “Well, he would have picked up the lube and the condoms and put his shoes back on as you still lay on the bed, catching your breath.” Tommy is speaking carefully and a little slowly so Jon can easily follow without too much effort, “Then he’d get his belt back.” Tommy realizes after a minute that he’s somehow speaking in the third person. Maybe he hasn’t actually processed everything he thought he had. _Hmm_.

Tommy pulls Jon’s shirt off his wrists, dropping it onto the floor, and Jon rolls onto his back, stretching his arms and flexing his elbows. Tommy keeps a hand on his shoulder to maintain contact.

“Then he’d leave, and you would get up, even though you’d much rather stay down and get your bearings for a little longer, because you’d be worried that he might come back.”

Tommy takes the washcloth and gently wipes it over Jon’s face, down his nose and across his cheek. Jon’s eyes are closed, and Tommy makes sure he doesn’t miss a spot. Tommy moves down to Jon’s stomach, continuing to clean him. Tommy leaves the washcloth on the nightstand, and lies down on his side next to Jon, his face almost right up against Jon’s ear.

Tommy continues, quietly, “You’d stumble into the bathroom to try to clean yourself up.” Tommy starts to stroke Jon’s hair. Jon leans into Tommy, listening intently. “You’d realize that your hair’s a mess and your shirt a bit worse for wear, but you’d be in too much of a hurry to get out to do anything about it. And then you’d walk out, smoothing your hair down, worrying that people could read on your face what just happened as you fumbled through your phone to get a Lyft to take you home. And the driver would ask if anything was wrong and you’d snap at him to shut up. And then you’d get home and try to fall asleep, but you probably wouldn’t.”

Tommy can feel Jon trembling. He didn’t mean to make Jon feel sorry for him but he thought it important to be honest, especially now. Tommy has mostly(?) gotten over this particular point of reference, though it definitely took him a while. Being here with Jon, in this moment, is actually giving him some of the resolution he was denied. Tommy has since learned what _should_ have happened, and he now knows how to provide it for his partners. He silently promises Jon to never, ever let him feel like that. Jon rolls over into Tommy’s shoulder and Tommy can feel Jon’s hot tears on his skin.

Tommy wraps his arms around Jon, “Hey, hey. I got you.” Tommy kisses the top of Jon’s head, stroking circles into his back, and lets him cry.

++++

They stay there, Jon curled into Tommy, for however long they stay there. Twenty minutes? Two hours? It’s hard to say. Jon’s sobs slow down, and he starts to hiccup like a cartoon, which makes him laugh—which makes Tommy laugh—until they’re giggling uncontrollably together. Tommy is still wrapped around Jon like a human security blanket, and everything feels ridiculous and hilarious as waves of dopamine rush through them.

“So that was… fucking intense,” Jon says, in between gasps of laughter. “Intense fucking,” Tommy replies and thinks _‘Jesus, we were a speechwriter and a press secretary. Listen to us now, we sound like idiots.’_ He stifles another giggle.

“That too,” Jon agrees with a grin.

Tommy glances down at Jon as he goes through the emotional ups and downs after such an intense encounter (partially in wonder and partially just to keep an eye on him). Tommy has loosened his grip a little, but he keeps his arms wrapped snugly around Jon. Jon looks up at Tommy, meeting his gaze. Tommy feels such affection for Jon in this moment, feels so appreciative that Jon trusted him with this request, and so pleased he could make it happen for him. He is overwhelmed with his actual love for Jon, and it’s A Lot all at once. _Take it down a notch, Vietor._

“So, Favreau, was that as good for you as it was for me?” asks Tommy, not sure he quite gets to the level of lightheartedness he’s aiming for.

“Asshole,” Jon manages to get out, but he still looks lamebashfulgrateful.

“No, but really?” This is partly Tommy’s need for positive feedback kicking in, but he also deeply wants to know he got it right for Jon; he wants to be sure Jon got what he needed from him.

Jon admits, “Yeah. Yeah. You nailed it.”

“Nailed you,” Tommy says, smirking at his own cleverness, but then he reminds himself he was an actual spokesperson once upon a time.

Wrung out from all of everything, they lie in silence for a little while, Tommy continuing to stroke patterns on Jon’s back. He tells himself it’s for Jon’s benefit, but Tommy knows it’s also because he doesn’t want to stop touching Jon. He wants to touch Jon for as long as Jon will let him. Tommy closes his eyes. _Jonnnn_.

“Sorry about the teeth, by the way,” Jon says suddenly. His brain is clearly running through the evening, re-living pieces as they come back to him.

“Meh. It happens,” Tommy replies. Because honestly, he would know. Then, wanting Jon to feel good about it, Tommy whispers into Jon’s hair, “You actually were really good, you know.” It’s also the truth.

Tommy watches the redness creep up Jon’s face, and Jon burrows his head further into Tommy’s chest.

“Thanks, dude,” he says, though it comes out muffled against Tommy’s pecs. Tommy smiles as he rests his cheek on the top of Jon’s head, their legs tangled together. Tommy wants to stay here forever, be Jon’s anchor. _‘This is nice,’_ Tommy thinks.

“This is nice,” Jon says, as if on cue.

Tommy chuckles again at that and feels Jon breathe against him. He gives Jon a little squeeze, and keeps Jon warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Ira's interview: can be found [here](https://blog.tunein.com/ira-madison-iii-of-keep-it-on-his-new-podcast-pop-culture-and-who-crooked-media-s-kim-k-is-4d1edc8bb36c).
> 
> Tommy's Bret Baier Fox News Interview can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zFZMPe83i3E).


End file.
